


consumed by either fire or fire

by orphan_account



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Manipulation, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:35:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22642720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: [teacher!Galo AU/student!Lio]“You were telling me about the sausages.”Galo chokes on a crouton and Lio cuts another dainty piece of hashbrown off, watching Galo choke with raised eyebrows. “I was telling you how you know a place is good.”“By their sausages,” Lio says again, and puts his elbow on the table, cheek resting on his palm.“Not just the sausages!” Galo levels his fork at him, not bothering to try and hide his grin, but he does shovel a mouthful of salad into his mouth.“The whipped cream,” Lio says casually, just as Galo’s chewing and swallowing, because he’s an asshole. Galo sputters and Lio smirks over the rim of his coffee glass.
Relationships: Aina Ardebit/Lucia Fex, Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 15
Kudos: 63





	consumed by either fire or fire

**Author's Note:**

> strolls into the student/teacher au fic tag 15 minutes late with starbucks
> 
> i really wanted a different exploration of that trope with a side of "whoops kray is orchestrating everything, but lio is STILL DOING REALLY QUESTIONABLE SHIT" hopefully it works.
> 
> anyway i really like [saffytaffy's art](https://twitter.com/saffytaffy6/) goddamn

The principal's house is enormous so it tracks that his dining room is also absurdly large; there aren’t a lot of places that make Galo feel small, but this the yawning hall with a massive table really does it. 

Despite the size, and the chill outside, though, Galo’s warm. It probably has something to do with the copious amounts of wine that he’s had, but the principal keeps offering and Galo doesn’t feel  _ bad _ , mostly just full and sleepy and still kind of in awe that he got invited over. The principal can’t have had an easy time the last few weeks; ever since Galo found the weirdness on the books when he was going over his lesson plans. He doesn’t know the full context of it, not really; that’s so far above his paygrade it’s insane. It is a lot to deal with, though, especially when Kray has so much else he’s working on. There’s nothing he can do about it; he came over for dinner like it was the old times again, made conversation and he  _ thinks _ it went okay?

It  _ is _ late, though, and as much as Galo could listen to him talk about lesson plans and budgetary allotments for PE, he really should get going. If he’s lucky, he’ll see Aina and Lucia, stick around for a drink and then go home to sleep. If they already went home then he’ll walk the rest of the way home to sober up. It’s a solid plan. 

“Take one of my cars,” Kray says kindly, like he’s read Galo’s mind. 

“Wh— I can’t do that! No driving!” Galo puts both hands up, shaking his head furiously. “Not that I don’t — they’re probably really cool, I just. I don’t want preferential treatment or anything, you know?” 

“With a driver, Galo, of course,” Kray laces his fingers together, puts his chin on top of them and looks at Galo like he’s a particularly interesting creature. It makes heat curl in his chest, sparking where he’d thought it had mostly burnt out. Kray’s voice is low, soothing. “Trust me. You will  _ never _ have to worry about preferential treatment from me.”

Weird how that stings a little even if it’s meant to reassure him. 

Tipsy and lonely aren’t a good mix, especially around what’s effectively his new boss, along with  _ oldest crush _ . No crushes allowed. The principal’s house is a strict no crush zone. No thinking about crushes means no saying anything dumb while drinking absurdly expensive wine. At least he’d told Kray that he had to leave early to meet the others at the party, even if he hadn’t necessarily said  _ party _ . 

“Oh! Yes? Yes. Thank you, sir!” Galo stands with a clatter of his chair, sheepish, thrusting his hand out. It  _ is _ a really kind offer. Kray’s is larger than his, swallowing it up and then his other folds around it, sandwiching Galo’s neatly. He’s so  _ warm. _ “Thanks again! For the, y’know, everything? I guess?” 

Kray’s smile is thin, barely there. “You got that position all on your own. You know if I had my way, I would have let you become a firefighter.” 

“I know,” Galo beams; Kray let him make the choice between the two, and Galo had done both, sort of. Volunteer firefighting on the side, while filling in for the missing teacher for the rest of the school year. A trial run for him, which means he super can’t screw this up. “Thanks again. I’ll see you Monday! Bright and early!” 

“Do be careful,” Kray says from the doorway, lounging in it, backlit by his lights in soft tones of gold. The lights swim a little and Galo wobbles, knees locked. He’s doing something he knows Kray disapproves of, which he doesn’t enjoy, but he’s long past the age of sanitizing his whole life to make other people happy. “The wine is going to be older than any person at that party you think I don’t know you’re...attending.” 

Busted. Galo’s only two years out of college himself, so that wine has a good twenty years on him, too. Galo’s smile goes sheepish, but he tugs on his jacket and jams both hands into his pockets. 

Kray’s guy is the one driving him and he’s only saying what he does out of concern. “I’ll make sure to be careful, don’t worry! Have a good night!” 

Whoever is driving already is in the driver’s seat, the car warmed up like it was waiting. That’s pretty awesome, honestly, he’s never really had a driver outside of an Uber or something, but the sliding glass pane between them is a little tricky. How are they supposed to talk?. Perplexed, he straps in and then leans until he can ta p the glass divider, the motion making the world slosh to the side. Water first, when he gets to the party. “I’m going here!” 

It’s a pinned location on the map; the driver looks back and the car starts, so Galo figures it’s probably fine and lolls his head against the cold window. 

🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺

When he wakes, it’s to his seatbelt catching him when the door opens. Yelping, he fumbles it the first time and then jams his thumb into the connector, popping the belt loose with a high whine as it re-rolls. 

Getting out is just as graceful; he’s all slee py, long limbs, stumbling out and closing the door behind him. When he squints, it’s the right house; there are people milling around visible inside through the windows, and outside on the steps. There are a ton of people, though; finding Aina and Lucia might be a little difficult. 

Galo fishes his phone out of his pocket. Or, tries to. 

Patting his pockets reveals his phone isn’t there either, and just as he turns to flag the driver, they’re gone. 

“You have gotta be…” Galo pats all two of his pockets again, nothing. It’s not like the phone is gone forever but that’s a pain in the ass to deal with. He still has his wallet. It’s a party, so that’s...something. He can find someone in there, borrow their phone if he has to, and will get his back from Kray’s driver on Monday, if not tomorrow. It’s fine. He’s going to have  _ fun _ , he’s going to enjoy this brief time off between everything he has going on, and he’s going to make sure that Aina doesn’t drink two hurricanes again, because holding her hair out of the toilet while she puked red was terrifying and he is never letting that happen again.

Determined, Galo heads through the throng of people on the lawn, trotting up the stairs. Lucia’s on the couch in the corner, with Aina leaning across the back of the chair, watching whatever she’s doing. In Lucia’s lap are papers and — oh, okay, he doesn’t know what exactly she’s doing but he gets the gist. Science-y stuff. One hand lifts in a wave, already bracing his feet.

“Galo!” Aina bounces across the room and full-body contact hits him; he catches and spins her, stumbling only a little bit when he puts her down. “Ooh, I thought you didn’t drink much! You drank without us?” 

“Galo!’ Lucia’s protest is less intense from behind, the dim house lighting flashing off of her glasses. 

“Sorry, sorry! I had a… dinner...thing,” Galo says, waving a hand once she’s set down. “I can’t stick around too long, sorry. Took a car here and I left my phone, I’ve still gotta finish going over lesson plans—” 

“You finished those last week,” Lucia gives him an unimpressed look over her glasses. She’d know— she helped him do them so it’s not really a good excuse. “Try again.” 

Galo groans as he’s led to the kitchen, pulling out his wallet to tuck a ten into the re-purposed sake bottle the house owners are using for a tip jar. There’s a bucket full of half-melted ice; Galo shoves a hand in and pulls out the first beer, only to glance up and find Aina staring at him with more intent than he expects. “Uh.” 

“Sooo, dinner,” Aina says casually, hip cocked, elbow planted on the island. “With Mr. Foresight.” 

“It was dinner!” The exits are all blocked. Galo pops the lid off his beer and half-hopes someone will come in and distract her, but no such luck. “Hey, isn’t your sister visiting!” 

“ _ Galo! _ ” All five feet nothing of Aina get up into his space, her own cup clinked against his beer gently. “You know what I mean! What  _ happened _ ? Everyone knows you’ve had a crus—” 

“Nope! No, nope, we’re not talking about this! He’s my boss!” Galo takes a long pull off the beer and grimaces when the fizz hits the back of his throat and nearly chokes him. “I want to  _ keep _ my job, not…” 

“I know, I know.” Aina huffs a sigh at him. “It’s smart. Maybe you’ll find someone here. Lucia’s chem friends are playing Smash in the upstairs bedroom, and one of the girls is pretty cute…” 

“ _ You’re cute _ ,” Galo protests like it’s a defense; it sort of is. Aina beams at him, and then promptly steps one of her heels on his toes just hard enough to make him yelp. “What! You are!” 

“Yeah, been there, got the tshirt, dummy. All I’m saying is maybe think about talking to someone here. C’mon, they set up ping pong in the garage and I want to kick your ass.” 

It’s the perfect distraction; Galo doesn’t bother protesting, following her out into the garage to get his ass handed to him. 

🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺

Three rounds of ping-pong later, Lucia’s collected Aina and they’re curled up on a loveseat across the room, looking over something on Lucia’s tablet. Galo’s made the rounds in the house, saying hi to friends, clinking beers and settles on a couch to people watch before he goes home. Now that he’s been up and moving, it’s easier to stick around and it’s really not  _ that  _ late. 

Across the room, someone whoops as they win whatever game was being played. On an opposite couch, someone who caught his eye earlier is thumbing through something on his phone. The lighting catches on his nails every time he flicks his finger across the screen, distracting. Like he can somehow feel Galo’s gaze, his head tilts up and Galo’s pinned in place, caught. 

The guy gets up slowly, unfolding himself from the couch, tucking his phone into his pocket. Galo stiffens and tries for a smile, not sure what to expect.

“Do you have a problem?” 

“Yes? No? Maybe?” Galo fumbles through the responses, not sure what the right answer is here, brow furrowed. In the grand scheme of things, sure, who doesn’t, but that’s not what the guy is asking. Probably. “Not at the...moment?”   
  
“You keep staring. So what is it?” 

Oh. Yeah, that’s fair. Whoops. Galo grimaces, a little mortified, the alcohol not helping. “It’s nothing! There’s no problem!” To be fair, there isn’t. “I just— your nails?” 

The guy shifts from his weight from one booted foot to the next and lifts his hand, glancing at his nails, then at Galo, dubious. “My nails.” 

“ _ Yeah _ .” Galo’s head lifts and falls aggressively, and well, the guy’s talking to him so why not, right? Galo pulls his legs in and gestures to the couch in invitation, half-expecting the guy to turn him down. Galo reaches a hand out and grabs a sparkling hand they’re both examining, shaking it enthusiastically. “I just thought it looked cool, like, sparkly. I’m Galo!” 

For a moment, he’s worried the guy is just going to leave. He looks like he’s not sure what to do about the situation, about Galo walking up to him like a human hurricane. Whatever he must see as he examines Galo is apparently what he’s looking for; the hesitation fades. “Lio Fotia. Kray Foresight’s Galo?”

The question is asked innocently enough, but Galo still flinches. Yeah, he wishes, maybe. Wished, is more like it, but that boat sailed and Galo’s accepted that, mostly. “I mean, not  _ his _ . Galo Thymos. How do you know him?” 

Lio has the grace to look mildly abashed at himself, lips thinning. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—” 

“It’s  _ fine.”  _ It is, Galo isn’t bothered; the slight ache of the thought fades almost instantaneously. “I really did just wanna say I liked your nails. I tried to paint mine once, it was a  _ disaaaster _ . Paint everywhere! On the walls! On the carpet! It’s still kinda there, actually, I never got all of it out, it’s under a rug though. Mr. Foresight got it for me when he saw the stain.”

“If you put down newspaper you don’t make such a mess when you spill it.” Lio’s lips twitch up faintly and the rings on his fingers sparkle in the dim house lighting when he tips his cup back and forth. Galo watches it, distracted, and then jolts his attention back up to Lio’s face. Lio’s lips tilt up a little further, indulgent. It’s a gorgeous smile, Galo thinks. “You probably shouldn’t do it over carpet, either.” 

“What, like I have newspapers?” Is that a thing people do? The only people Galo knows get newspapers are like, old people. That’s a parents or old people thing to do. He could just pay to get them done but then he’ll just ruin them and it’s just a lot of effort, because that’s a long time to be sitting still. “Hey, I know now! I just spilled the whole bottle and never got a new one.” 

Lio’s eyes are lined, dark under the shadow of his bangs, hair artfully tousled, so gorgeous Galo doesn’t know how to handle his full attention without threatening to fluster. Lio is, he learns, a musician of sorts even if he avoids probing questions about it. Somehow, despite the somewhat late hour, they strike up a conversation and it’s...good. Better than good, really. It’s so ridiculously easy to talk to Lio that he barely notices time passing and when he makes a joke comment about Lio painting his nails, Lio shrugs.  _ Yeah, sure. Hold my drink.  _

Vanishing briefly down a hall, Lio returns with a bright blue bottle in between his fingers and settles onto the couch like he didn’t just go pawing through someone’s bathroom drawers.

“Hand here,” Lio says, and pats his knee. Galo probably should hesitate, but he obeys without thinking, slouched down into the couch. They have to sit close already, but Galo’s perhaps overly careful, his knees facing outward until Lio huffs a sigh and reaches out, tugging. Galo’s right knee goes against the couch, both pressed together and Lio tosses both of his legs over them, plunking Galo’s hand on his knee. “Don’t move.” 

Lio has him neatly pinned and is opening nail polish, which means Galo does everything in his power to obey that order. In his other hand, his beer sweats condensation; Galo thumbs back and forth over it, smearing it. Is this flirting? It kind of feels like it. Lio’s not looking at him, he’s focusing on Galo’s hand as he draws the brush out and down a pinkie nail. 

“So, do you uh—” come here often, paint dude’s nails at parties often. There are a dozen ways to end the question, but Galo’s buzzed and tired and Lio’s thighs are warm on top of his. “Go to school?” 

Lio pauses, looking up at Galo from underneath messy bangs. “What do you mean?” 

“School?” Galo’d drag a hand through his hair if he had a free one; when he tries to move the one Lio’s holding still, his fingers tighten around Galo’s wrist like a clamp. “Shit! Sorry! I mean, we’re at a party! You go to Prom U or a school around here?” 

The brushing starts up again, slower. “Around here, yeah. Why?” 

Screw it. Alcohol makes him a little brave, a little dumb. “I’m just trying to figure out if a cute guy painting my nails at a college party is the ush’ or what.” 

“ _ ‘The ush’,”  _ Lio repeats the same way Galo had said it,  _ the yooush _ , staring at Galo like he can’t quite understand what’s being said. 

The music  _ is _ loud. Galo can absolutely be louder, “Yeah! The ush, usual. Y’know!” 

“No one says that,” Lio tells him, very seriously if it weren’t for the twitch of his lips. “Cute guy, mn?” 

“You think I’m cute?” Galo nearly chokes on his sip of glorified lighter fluid, eyes wide. “ _ Hell yeah _ .” 

“That could have almost been smooth if I thought it was intentional.” Lio’s hand pulls at his wrist and he gestures to Galo’s free hand, smiling even as he tries to act like he’s impatient. “Other hand.” 

Galo obeys, hand fitting to Lio’s knee; Lio’s hand settles on top of his and very firmly curls around it and drags it lower, halfway down his thigh. His smile has a hint of teeth, eyebrows raised. “Do you normally go to college house parties and stare at guys until they paint your nails?” 

“Do you normally sit on a couch at a party staring at guys you don’t know until they talk to you?” Lio drags the brush over another nail, careful, precise. 

“Uh, no. This is a first for me.” Galo admires one hand while it dries, holding his beer carefully. “I was at a...work dinner, and some friends of mine are here.” 

“A work dinner,” Lio repeats, using the point of his nail to stroke a line of polish off Galo’s cuticle before it dries. “What do you do?” 

College kids get weird about teachers. Galo gets it; kinda like having a police officer roll up to your party. There’s a chance they’ll be cool, maybe they’re here with friends but most likely you’re just tempting fate. It’s not a lie so much as it is an omission. “Two parttime gigs. One’s wrangling people, the other is… still kinda people wrangling! I work over at the Promepolis Fire Department? Mostly volunteer basis since my schedule is kinda—”

He tries to wiggle his hand to indicate, and Lio grabs it before he’s able to, smacking it back down. “Stop  _ moving _ , you’ll screw it up.”

Despite Galo wiggling without thinking, they manage to make it through all ten fingers relatively unscathed. He still can’t touch anything yet without risking it and when Lio suggests a second coat to make the color stronger, Galo knows that’s a terrible idea. The nail polish is put back and despite the late hour, Galo stays. Lio comes back out and tosses his legs into Galo’s lap like it’s nothing; with each conversation subject change, it feels like they wind up closer and closer. 

Lio goes from one end of the couch to looming over him, a knee pushed between his thighs where Galo’s cock is half-hard, half-interested in the promise of this even without having done anything. Just as he opens his mouth to apologize for it, Lio pushes a hand against his shoulder, looking down at him. 

“Can I kiss you?” Galo asks in a rush before he can stop himself, like Lio’s not positioned over him like he’s going to eat Galo alive. 

“That was the plan. I wasn’t going to ask,” Lio tells him, and winds a hand into the wild spikes of Galo’s hair and pulls his head back to do just that. “But since  _ you _ did—”

Galo’s breath hitches in his throat at the tug and he laughs out a shaky, “Yes! Very yes,” before Lio makes good on the threat and kisses him.

🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺

“You should take me home,” Lio tells him an hour later, squirming at the press of Galo’s hand up the front of his artfully torn tshirt. Rough fingertips graze a nipple, wringing a strangled noise out of him, which is absurdly hot and also when Galo discovers it’s not just his phone missing. Lio’s hand squeezes at his ass from where it’s buried in a pocket and Galo jerks back, eyes wide. 

“Shit!” 

“You’re not that bad at this,” Lio tells him, hand not leaving its place cupping Galo’s ass. When that fails to get a laugh, his eyebrows furrow. “What’s wrong?” 

“My  _ keys _ . Must’ve left them at Mr. Foresight’s place. ” Galo groans, leaning back toL io to trade idle kisses while he tries to process approximately what level of screwed he is. He must have left them in Kray’s cool seashell key holder thing; he’d put them in there when he arrived and couldn’t remember getting them out. Great, awesome. He knows he could just go back and ask to crash there, but that’s...not ideal. “I can probably break in?” 

“To your house,” Lio says, dubious. His hands settle on the narrow line of Galo’s waist, tracing where he’s rucked up the neatly pressed line of his button-down. Lio’s face is unreadable, but his mouth shapes around the start of a word before he swallows it, changing tack. “At midnight.”

“When you say it like that it sounds dumber than losing my phone and my keys,” Galo mumbles, mashing his cheek against Lio’s shoulder with a sigh. A hand pets down the small of his back gently. “I can ask Mr. Foresight. It’ll be fine.”

Over him, Lio tenses. 

“Not that I’m not having fun! I want to keep kissing you! I want your number, too, but I don’t have my phone so I can’t— I’ll get that from Mr. Foresight to—” 

Lio kisses him again, a press of teeth dragging over Galo’s bottom lip. Only once he’s kissed the air out of Galo’s lungs does he pull back, staring at Galo for a long moment like he’s considering something. Whatever internal decision he’s making only takes a moment; Lio kisses him again. 

“You could stay over.” Lio murmurs into his mouth, doing some  _ thing _ with his hips where every inch of him drags against Galo in invitation. The hand in his hair goes tight and Galo shivers through a whine in response, trying to focus on his words. “My...roommates are on a trip. I have the house.”

Going home with a guy he’s met for the first time at a party is a dumb idea but not that dumb. Less dumb than sleeping outside til he’s sober enough to call someone to get into his house or figure all of that out. 

The exhaustion of the day is already wearing at him; they haven’t had a drink since painting nails, but the alcohol he’s had settles inside him, heavy. He doesn’t want Lio to feel obligated. Gently, he extricates himself from the warmth of Lio and the couch, standing. “I can sleep on the couch. Or ask Lucia, or Remi, or, or Aina—” 

“You don’t want to sleep on the couch here.” Lio follows him, stretching his hands to the ceiling and on the way down hooks a finger into Galo’s shirt collar. Somehow, they start kissing again. It’s not Galo’s fault, it’s just Lio’s there in front of him and his lips are kissed pink so he  _ has to _ . When they finally break off for a breath, Lio brackets him in against the wall, shockingly imposing for someone Galo has a good foot of height on. “Your friend’s sister.” 

Heris, shit, right. No couch. 

Crashing with Lio, a dude he just met, is somehow the most responsible option he can make. Oof. 

_ Lio  _ is inviting over some guy he barely knows over, and yeah, sure, there’s something in it for him too and Galo’s pretty sure he doesn’t give off  _ serial killer _ vibes, but still. He should say something to reassure Lio, right? 

“I’ll be a gentleman,” Galo assures him between another round of kisses, keeps his hand firmly on Lio’s hip rather than his ass where he really, really wants to hold. “The  _ most _ gentlemanly.”

“We’ll see.” Lio sounds kind of like he thinks Galo’s full of shit, which is fair given Galo’s said he ought to get going twice already so far and has made it about two feet before going right back to kissing Lio. “You’ve got three minutes to decide. I’m calling a car home.”

“I can call it!” Galo offers like he has his phone and isn’t pinned neatly against the wall, Lio’s lips pressed over his collarbone. “Or, I would, if I had my phone.” 

“I can call a car,” Lio tells him very patiently, pulling a frankly massive phone out of his pants pocket, settling it on his thigh. It leaves one hand free to reel Galo in by his hair like a leash, while he types with his other. Rather than risk both of them tipping over, Galo goes where he’s pulled, sandwiching Lio between himself and the wall. While he’s there, he kisses a line up the column of Lio’s throat, over his jaw, mouthing at the earrings studded through his ear. Lio’s head tilts up, baring the line of his throat with a shiver. “Galo.  _ Galo _ — I’m trying to type. Stop.” 

That doesn’t sound like an annoyed order; it’s breathy, amused, and Lio bares the line of his throat a little more in what feels like an invitation but Galo stops all the same. His cheek goes to Lio’s shoulder, nosing against it with a slow inhale as he waits for Lio to finish punching in his address. He kind of expected that they’d both smell like stale party and spilled alcohol, but Lio smells  _ good. _ “I’ve got money.” 

“For  _ what _ ,” Lio says, very flatly, then, like he’s only just realized, “Why did you stop?” 

He’s doing his best here with what he’s got, but it takes Galo a moment to parse both questions and what kind of answer to give. “For the car? And ‘cause you said to stop so you could call it?” 

Lio stares at him and fumbles the first attempt at putting his phone back into his pocket. If Galo had to guess at the expression on Lio’s face he’d say surprised, but like he’s trying to play it cool. In case it’s not obvious, Galo dips in and smooches the corner of Lio’s mouth. “Was I not supposed to? Do you want me to keep kissing you? I will!” 

“The car gets here in two minutes. ” Lio tells him, which isn’t an answer at all, but he  _ does _ lean up and kiss Galo again, fitting both of his hands to the sides of Galo’s face. Whatever Galo intended to say gets swallowed and he loses himself in the simplicity of this until there’s a beep of a horn from outside. 

Then, another. Lio pulls back, tugging his fingers through his bangs, righting his jacket, looking instantly presentable again while Galo feels like it’s  _ very obvious _ he’s been making out. “That’s us. The white car with the lights on.” 

Galo  _ did _ promise to be a gentleman, so he pops the door open for Lio and breezes over to the other side to settle in, double checking Lio puts his seatbelt on. From the driver seat, their driver adjusts the mirror and glances back at them. “Good thing you guys called when you did. Headed to Forest Grove?” 

“Yeah. Thank you.” Oh. Huh, that’s where Kray lives, too. Galo didn’t really expect any particular neighborhood for Lio, but those houses are massive out there. On his side of the car, Lio leans back against the seat and tosses his boots into Galo’s lap, watching him like he’s curious what Galo’s going to do about it. “Why is it a good thing we called now?” 

Galo’s hand settles on the curve of Lio’s knee and slopes down, tracing circles against one of his calves with his fingertips. The glitter of his nailpolish is distracting in the wet, murky light reflected off the stoplights, but looking up at Lio is just as distracting. 

“Cops got called on the party,” their driver says, shaking his head. “It’s weird, normally they don’t bother, but sometimes… Oh, hey.” 

Across the street, lights flash on. A siren follows. One cop car, followed by a second fly pass them, a third and fourth following. That seems a little overkill, really. Their driver snorts, shaking his head. “Waste of time and resources.” 

“What, really?” Galo cranes his neck, watching out the back window while his fingers stroke back and forth over Lio’s leg.

“It’s just a scare tactic. Everyone knows they’ll just do it again next weekend. The only ones that’d get in trouble are kids who snuck in. Everyone else just gets a slap on the wrist.” 

“Oh.” They had parties like that when he was in school, but he also was overloaded with class and work and volunteer firefighting, so it wasn’t something he’d looked into too much. “Well! At least we dodged that bullet, right?” 

Another stoplight. Lio’s quiet next to him.

When Galo looks over, he’s not asleep. Lio chin is in his hands, hair lit up in red and yellow from the street lamps and the window behind him is damp with the rain outside. Lio’s still distractingly gorgeous, framed by the wet glass and smudges of colored lights behind him. A yawn ruins anything cool Galo means to say; he probably should have gone to bed three hours ago. It really is nice of Lio to let him crash, but maybe he could just get dropped off at a hotel so it’s not a problem.

Like he can sense Galo’s internal debate, Lio’s legs hook tighter over his, the intent clear. “I told you it’s fine.” 

“I know! I know. I appreciate it.” Lio’s eyeliner smeared a little bit; Galo reaches out across the car and thumbs across it, which leaves him within kissing distance. Instead of taking advantage of it, his mouth works without his brain. “So, how long have you lived out here?” 

The car jolts to a halt a moment later, cutting off whatever Lio was going to say. He pops the door open and slides out before Galo gets his kiss, smirking at him from the sidewalk already turning toward the door. Scrambling, Galo fumbles the seatbelt and tumbles out of the car in a jumble of limbs, following Lio up to an absurdly large, nice house. Then, he stumbles back to close the door of the car in a rush, shoving a five through the rolled down window. “Thanks! For the ride!” 

It’s the same neighborhood as Kray — the same subdivision, even. Galo recognizes that house on the end of the cul-de-sac because Kray hates that they never trim their lawn to HOA guidelines, but have enough money to just pay the fees. 

Okay, so Lio’s roommates are rich. Or Lio is. That phone was the latest model and his pants and jacket were just the right amount of distressed to look worn without looking  _ old _ . Galo’s spent enough time around money to recognize it. 

“You sure you don’t want me to pay you back?” Galo slides both hands around Lio’s waist and noses at the nape of his neck, only for Lio to pull himself away in a rush. The door opens and unceremoniously he yanks Galo into the foyer and kicks it shut, tugging him in close. Pressing kisses to the line of Lio’s throat is forgotten in lieu of staring at the ridiculously large chandelier scattering light into the entryway. “Wow. What do your roommates  _ do _ ?”

“Doesn't matter.” Lio is dragging him down the hallway, one turn and then another and then shoves him into what’s (hopefully?) his bedroom. “Shoes off by the door. Bathroom’s on the right. Don’t go wandering, don’t be loud outside. The neighbors complain.” 

“Burbs,” Galo agrees, looking over the art on the walls. 

“‘Burbs.” Lio starts and then stops himself, rolling his eyes to the ceiling, all performative irritation. “Get on the bed, Galo.” 

Is Lio going to order him around for this? Galo toes his shoes off, considers it and decides he’s pretty into that as an idea, and Lio spends the next few minutes putting that into practice where Galo finds out that yeah, he’s actually  _ really _ into that. 

“Ssssooo,” Galo says once he’s fought his boots off and they’re in Lio’s bed. Despite having a foot and a ton of weight on Lio, it doesn’t matter. Lio fists a hand in his hair and drags him down, rides him into the mattress and keeps him pinned. 

He’s not so much half-naked as he is mostly undone, pants and shirt unbuttoned, threatening to slide off. He’s been idly grinding against Lio between lazy kisses, but not going any further. Every so often one of Lio’s hands will press between his thighs, curve over his dick but just as fleetingly it retreats. Galo hasn’t been half as brave. “You’re telling me to be loud  _ inside,  _ right? Full disclosure! I don’t know how loud I am. And I might need you to explain a few things.”

“It isn’t that complicated,” Lio tells him, stretched out on his sheets, the imprint of Galo’s teeth against his pecs starting to slowly pinken. He traces two fingers over it and Galo’s eyes zoom to track it like a cat with a laser pointer. “So, you’ve never… what isn’t clear?” 

Like, a lot of it but Galo cannot articulate right now. All of his questions get distilled down to preference and Galo doesn’t know what kind of preferences he has, so he’ll follow Lio’s right now. Somehow, disclaiming he’s been too busy for sex doesn’t seem like it’s the hottest excuse. “It’s not  _ not _ clear _! _ I know how it works!”

“I  _ hope _ so,” Lio mutters. When he shoves a hand down the front of Galo’s pants, groping, Galo absolutely does not yelp. “It’s not that complicated. Do what feels good.” 

That’s actually not helpful at all; everything feels good. 

“I’m better at teaching stuff I,  _ ngh, _ know! Firefighting! Best pizza types! Phys ed! The r _ iii _ ight weight-lifting….hhn, techniques! How to find good diners!” Galo had, at the start, managed to get Lio’s pants off, which means there’s an expanse of skin covered only by briefs and socks and he’s  _ also _ kind of into  _ that _ look and isn’t sure what to do about it. Between his legs, Lio’s hand fits itself over Galo’s cock. Pets, gently, exploratorily. “Besides. I don’t know what feels good for you.” 

“All very important, yeah,” Lio kisses him like he’s going to make sure Galo shuts up, personally, and shoves him further onto his back to straddle a thick thigh. Each grinding motion presses his cock against Galo’s thigh, which isn’t really hot objectively but it  _ is  _ hot knowing Lio’s using his thigh to get himself off. 

Galo’s breath catches. 

Lio’s hand meets skin and fits around his dick, strokes between idle, searching kisses and slow, steady grinds of Lio’s hips down against Galo’s thigh. Against Galo’s mouth while his fingers fit around the width of his cock, “It’s fine. If you haven’t. It’s not complicated. One of the easiest things to do.” 

It is, in fact, one of the easiest things to do, if your name is Lio and you’re doing it to Galo, apparently. A few more strokes of Lio’s hand against Galo’s dick, a press of tongue, and Galo shoots in his briefs with a low, startled whine. 

“Sorry,” Galo croaks, not sure if he really means it or not. He tosses an arm over his own face with a laughed groan and feels Lio drape himself on top of his chest like some kind of overlarge blanket. His first attempt at the words are most slurred against his forearm; Lio’s frame shaking with laughter is his only cue he’s not audible. “That was the tutorial. The tailgate party. The—” 

“ _Wh_ — will you stop listing things?” Lio presses a hand to his mouth, and Galo, like an idiot, licks it. It’s not hot, or sexy at all, it’s the worst but Lio’s startled laughter and full-body yank back gives Galo the chance to tip them both over. He couldn’t pull this in his bed, but Lio’s has room to spare. Lio’s phone is big, Lio’s bed his big, Lio’s dick is — “You _licked_ my _hand_.” 

“I’m gonna lick  _ so much more than that _ ,” Galo declares in his sultriest tone, braced over Lio. That sounded so much hotter in his head. Lio pats his cheek comfortingly, or maybe is wiping the spit off on it. It’s not really clear. “Here. Here, I have an idea. I will teach you about how to find good diners in the morning, if  _ you _ teach me what you like.” 

“What I like in bed, in return for diner food?” Lio already winding a hand into Galo’s hair, pushing him down Lio’s body like an afterthought. Galo presses his teeth into the skin on the other side of Lio’s chest, just to make both sides match and feels Lio’s whole body shudder underneath him when he runs his tongue over the peak of his nipple. When he tilts his head up to beam at Lio, Lio’s smiling faintly down at him, sharp, brows furrowed. It’s the same way the cat in the courtyard watches birds. “Sure. First lesson. Open your mouth.” 

🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺

  
  


Even with his head throbbing and his mouth dry, he’s still more comfortable than he can remember feeling in ages. Next to him, there’s a line of warmth and Galo shamelessly eases closer, fitting himself against it from behind. The curve of a shoulder rises up and a low groan comes from where his partner has their head buried in their pillow. 

In terms of stupid decisions, this isn’t so bad. A one night stand is one thing, but this doesn’t feel like one of those. Not that he’d like,  _ know _ what one feels like but he hasn’t felt this easily into someone at all, ever. Even if it was a bit of a chaotic night, he’s still missing his phone and keys, this isn’t so bad. Lio’s huddled under the covers he stole last night, on his belly, face mashed into the pillows. Slowly, Galo eases across the expanse of the absurdly large bed and wiggles his way under the covers. 

“Mmmmorning,” Galo hums, and slides his hand up from Lio’s thigh, over his hip and belly, flattening against his chest while he smears kisses across a newly bared shoulder. Earlier when he’d woken up to piss and drink water straight from the tap, he’d heard a car door open and shut. Suburban areas; at least it’s a Saturday, so no one should be too busy. He should probably tell Lio his roomies are back at some point. “How’re you feeling?” 

There’s a noise from below that could either be  _ shut up _ or  _ awful,  _ or maybe  _ wow you’re right I really should have had more water _ , Galo’s not really sure. Gently, he noses aside the spill of sleep-tangled hair and starts pressing kisses down the knobs of Lio’s spine instead, slow and sweet. There’s a bruise blooming over the curve of a shoulder; Galo traces it with lips and a flicker of tongue and Lio makes a low, soft noise underneath him. “I can make breakfast, if you want. In bed, even! I make the best pancakes and eggs, perfect hangover cure.” 

_ That _ gets Lio to move, tensing underneath him. 

It’s always a calculated risk to bring a stranger over, but Galo feels like if he were some kind of crazy person serial killer he would have made that clear already, not offered to make breakfast. “No breakfast. I can’t think about…” 

Lio makes a sound that’s not sexy in the slightest and slowly extricates himself from the blankets he’s stolen, patting over his nightstand blindly.

The glass of water Galo’d gotten when he went to the bathroom earlier nearly gets knocked over in his fumbling, and a moment later a bedraggled head pops out from under the sheets. Lio just stares at the glass like he can’t comprehend how it got there. 

Helpfully, Galo explains, “Got it a couple hours ago when I got up. I didn’t want to go poking around or I would’ve made you coffee.” 

“You are the most considerate person I’ve ever slept with,” Lio croaks at him, and Galo grins sheepishly, not sure if that’s meant as a compliment or an insult. 

“Thanks,” Galo tells him, no matter what the option is. He settles back down on to the part of the bed that he’d woken up on and then dares to shifts a little closer. It puts Lio within reach, so he fits a hand to the dip of his side, stroking rough fingertips along the warm line of skin under all the blankets. 

There’s a pause as Lio finishes the glass of water and then melts back into the nest of stolen bedding, eyes slitted open as he’s tugged against Galo. He’s not protesting it, nor is he leaning away. “You threatened to teach me about diners. Pizzas. Physical education.” 

“ _ Threatened _ ? Wow, ouch! Don’t think I need to do that last one, though, you  _ physically educated _ me,” Galo says before he can stop himself, and absolutely earns the hand pressed against his shoulder, shoving him back. “Well you  _ did! _ But you’re right.  _ Diners _ ! And pizzas! A man never breaks his promise!” 

Lio’s hand over his mouth cuts off anything else he wants to say and Lio himself looks like he can’t decide if he’s amused or vaguely ill. Rather than shove him again his other arm wraps around Galo and tugs him in to rest on Lio’s chest; Galo goes with a hum, easy. “I know I said my roommates weren’t here but being loud is—” 

“Oh, no, they’re here,” Galo murmurs, listening to the thrum of Lio’s heart, petting his hand down the sleep-warm length of Lio’s skin. 

“What.” 

“Was that a yes to diners? I can teach you how to find the best pizza after. It’s actually my only day free this week? It’s been—” 

“Galo. What did you  _ mean _ about my roommates being  _ here _ .” Lio presses both hands against Galo’s cheeks and tugs his head up.

Galo blinks at him, perplexed. “I mean...they’re here? I woke up ‘cause a door slammed outside. When I got the water, I saw it.. There’s a minivan down there.” 

If Galo’s head were still on Lio’s chest, he’s relatively certain he’d have  _ heard _ Lio’s heart speed up just from the way Lio’s expression changes. He doesn’t question what Galo saw, but the raw panic that flashes over his face is a little concerning. A dozen different reasons why sift their way through Galo’s mind and he discards all of them. This whole night has been kind of weird leading up to this morning and if Lio’s in a bad situation maybe he’ll be more willing to talk about it when they’re out. “So, uh, I’m guessing that’s a no on cooking you breakfast?”

“You need to— I’m sorry, but you have to go,” Lio says in a rush, fumbling sleepily with the covers to push them back. Galo’s already out of bed, tugging discarded clothes on, heedless of the wrinkles. Lio made him come in his fucking briefs last night and he’d had the sense to rinse them out but they weren’t exactly  _ clean _ or dry. Grimacing, Galo flips them inside out and hops as he tugs them up his hips. 

“Yeah, I got it.” One foot into his slacks, then the other. “So, is that a no on diners, too?” 

Lio is silent so long Galo glances up to see if he’s fallen asleep. He hasn’t; he’s sitting up in bed, naked from the waist up, hair a bird’s nest. “You really do want to go to breakfast and go get pizzas after.” 

“...Yeeeah?” Galo drags the word out, not sure what part of this is surprising or that Lio doubts. “I want to go do that stuff all the time anyway, but I’d enjoy it  _ way _ more with you. Plus we can get to know each other! Diners won’t have really loud music or a bunch of drunk college students.” 

His other sock somehow got strewn across one of the classy lamps in Lio’s room; Galo snags it and winds up distracted by trying to figure out how the hell it turns on without a button. “The only two diners close are IHOP or Dennys.” 

“Too bad there’s no Waffle House,” Galo fishes his belt off of the ground and starts threading it. “IHOP? My treat!” 

Lio eyes him a moment more, clearly weighing his decision and then sighs. The way he says it sounds like he expects Galo to decide better. “We have to sneak out through my window.”

“I’ve never had to sneak out of a house before,” Galo tells Lio cheerfully, popping the window open to peek out of it, considering. “I can hop down first and catch you!” 

Lio opens a door that Galo thought went into the hallway, but instead leads into a massive walk-in closet, because of course it does. “Fine. But I’m driving.” 

🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺

Anywhere for breakfast on a Sunday is a crapshoot, but only being two people is to their benefit in a crowded restaurant of families. They’re seated at the very back of the restaurant in a booth, and Galo kicks his legs up onto Lio’s side, knocking the toes of his fancy shoe against Lio’s thigh. 

“I don’t come out here too often so I get a lot of stuff. You can get whatever you want, I said I’d treat you!” Lio probably...doesn’t need it given the size of his house and his phone and his clothes, but a promise is a promise. A waitress comes by with water and menus and then they’re left alone again. Lio’s watching him, not looking at his open menu. Galo sticks his tongue out and gets rewarded with a huff of laughter behind a menu. “ _ Normally _ you want to go to a really old one. A diner. Oldest one you can find with good reviews. But for this?” 

Galo shakes his head and pounds his entire glass of water in one go. Lio winds both of his hands around the glass and then presses them to the sides of his face, sweeping back to cup the nape of his neck. Blonde hair sticks to his cheeks damply and Galo’s fingers itch to push it behind his ear. “For this it doesn’t matter.” 

“Wh— yeah.” 

Their waitress comes before Galo can be too loudly impressed about how Lio instantly just got it. Once they’ve ordered a frankly impressive amount of food they’re left alone with coffees. Galo’s foot rests against Lio’s arm and hasn’t been moved yet. Under the table, their knees touch, little spots of heat. 

“There’s this one place down in old town, couple owned it  _ fifty years _ . Fifty!” Galo can’t imagine doing anything but firefighting and teaching for fifty years and even that seems like an absurd, intangible amount of time. “Anyway. It’s a  _ diner _ but it’s the best. Their steak and eggs, this whipped cream they put on the pancakes, some kinda barrel aged caramel, and the  _ bacon and sausages _ —” __

Galo holds up both hands to illustrate, just as the first of their plates come; his hands go up out of the way in an instant. Galo’s is a somewhat sad, wilted salad, Lio’s plate of hashbrowns which he promptly proceeds to drown in a river of ketchup. Each cut of Lio’s knife is utterly precise, and somehow he gets it onto his fork smoothly, without making a mess. “You were telling me about the sausages.” 

Galo chokes on a crouton and Lio cuts another dainty piece of hashbrown off, watching him with raised eyebrows. “I was telling you how you know a place is good.” 

“By their sausages,” Lio says again, and puts his elbow on the table, cheek resting on his palm.

“Not  _ just _ the sausages!” Galo levels his fork at him, not bothering to try and hide his grin, but he does shovel a mouthful of salad into his mouth. 

“The whipped cream,” Lio says casually, just as Galo’s chewing and swallowing, because he’s an  _ asshole _ . Galo sputters and Lio smirks over the rim of his coffee mug. “I understand what you mean. Some old things are worth keeping around.” 

Not  _ exactly  _ how Galo would have put it, but close enough. As he’s stabbing his fork into the bowl, “Can I eat my salad safely?” 

“I hope so, you owe me pizza later.” 

🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺

  
  


Pizza turns into a dinner date which turns into a movie date since Lio’s roommates are home and Galo, despite wearing yesterday’s clothes, still hasn’t been home. It’s weird; Galo’s met plenty of people in his life. 

He’s loud, he’s friendly, he makes friends easier than most. None of them are like Lio, though. He plays three instruments, even if he’s cagey about it. He’s not a morning person, but by afternoon Galo has him laughing. They work similar schedules. He entertains Galo’s attention span when he’s dragged into one shop after another on the main stretch of road, just looking at one thing and the next without any intent to buy. 

Lio doesn’t let him hold his hand, and halfway through the day when Galo floats the idea of going out on another date, Lio gives a noncommittal answer. Bummer, but it’s fine. Lio has, as far as Galo can tell, dated other people. Or, maybe not  _ dated _ but he’s certainly seen other ones. 

More than once Galo tries to find a good time to bring up what he’s noticed so far — the cagey responses, Lio’s reactions to mentions of his roommates, or other situations but he’s rebuffed every time. Which, fair. He’s the guy Lio took home after a party. He doesn’t have a right to any of that knowledge right now. 

Galo  _ also _ still doesn’t have his phone, but at the end of the night, when they’re sitting on Galo’s back porch drinking what they’d gotten on the walk home, Lio hands his phone over. “You kept asking,” Lio says around the bubble tea straw. A purple bead floats up and he chews it, watching Galo. “You can text yourself. So you have it. You get your phone back tomorrow?” 

“Ugh,  _ hopefully _ ,” Galo punches his number in and texts himself approximately twenty different emojis before handing the phone back. Their shoulders touch, but Lio doesn’t move away from it. “You really don’t have to stay while I wait for someone to let me in.” 

“I know.” Lio takes another long drink, chews another bubble and then cuts Galo a long look, considering. “I don’t do anything I don’t want to, or without a reason.” 

🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺

It’s not  _ really _ a one night stand if the two of them keep seeing each other afterward, Galo figures. 

Maybe a one night stand is what Lio intended it to be; his friends seem a little surprised the first time they see Lio and Galo hanging out, which is fair. Galo’s big and loud and ridiculous, but he’s seen some of the guys Lio hangs out with; they’re not that different. 

One night stand, multiple night...stand? Lean? Is there a word for whatever… this is? Hanging out feels too casual; Galo hangs out with Aina, Remi, Varys and Lucia plenty but that’s usually divebars and bad movie nights and going home separate at the end. He and Lio do that — less divebars, more bad movie nights at Galo’s place. The energy is different when it’s just the two of them, though. Galo’s not sandwiched between two people with two more on the edges, it’s just Lio but that’s still, somehow, overwhelming. Lio’s presence takes up so much space, his very being demanding Galo’s attention effortlessly. 

One night, Lio falls asleep on him while they’re watching a movie. Galo’s mostly comatose already but the cool robot fight is enough to keep him awake. On his chest, tucked under one of the massive fuzzy blankets, Lio’s head rises and falls with each of Galo’s breaths. He falls asleep there and doesn’t wake up, even when Galo carries him to bed and crawls in afterward. 

One night, after arguing about the merits of store-bought pasta versus homemade, they make store-bought the first and Lio stays a second night just to test homemade, comparing it. The general consensus is that homemade is better, but the mess it causes is maybe only worth it once in a while. Galo decidedly does not say that he wants Lio to stick around long enough that he figures out how to make it less of a pain. 

One night, between prepping for exams, Lio shows up close to dinner on his ridiculous motorcycle and kidnaps him for a few hours, just to go for a ride. A distraction, a way to focus on something other than prepping for the coming week. “I figured you needed it,” Lio tells him when they’re sitting up on the scaffolding of a first floor, half-ruined concrete and juts of metal. Then, quieter, his head tilting back to look up at the stars. “ _ I _ needed it.” 

One night, Galo fits himself up against Lio from behind and presses kisses along the line of a shoulder, sweat cooling on his skin. He’s been meaning to ask this for weeks, now, after one one night stand turned into another and another and another, but hasn’t known  _ how _ to. “So… it’s not really a one night stand if we keep...doing this, right?”

Lio loses some of that fucked-boneless ease and tenses in his arms. “I wouldn’t...call this a one night stand, no.” 

“Okay,” Galo hedges, kissing a bruise he’d left against the curve of a shoulder, feeling Lio shiver underneath him. “So if it isn’t a one night stand, it needs a different name. Multi nightstand sounds like an Ikea ad.” 

“Multi-night sta—” Lio starts, incredulous, rolling onto his back to look up at Galo who beams down at him. “...It does.” 

“I know, right,” Galo smooches his cheek and then the other just so it doesn’t feel lonely. “So if it’s not a one night stand  _ and _ it’s not a  _ multi  _ night stand, then it’s gotta have a name. Lio de Galon’s Adventure Hangouts is  _ good _ , could use a little work but—”  
  
“We are  _ not _ calling it th—” 

“ _ Buuuut _ ,” Galo says loudly, over the sound of Lio’s sleepy protest. “But, there’s an easier name.”

He won’t say better, because Lio de Galon’s Adventure Hangouts doesn’t suck it’s just not all inclusive of everything they’re doing.

“Is there.” Lio’s tone isn’t a question, it’s a little flatter than Galo expects, honestly, given that this isn’t  _ that _ serious. “Galo…” 

“We don’t  _ have _ to call it dating, but I mean, that’s kinda what it is, right?” Galo’s voice goes lower, softer, a finger tracing up and down the length of Lio’s sternum, sweeping over his chest until his hand is caught and Lio squeezes it too tight for him to escape. “Right?” 

“Galo…” Just his name, again. That’s...probably not good, right? Galo can’t imagine that’s good, because if it were good Lio wouldn’t be saying his name like that, a little low and regretful he’d be just saying  _ yes, Galo, I totally want to date you and get married later and do weird boring old people stuff like actually order newspapers so we don’t ruin our antique dining table with nailpolish. _ It’s none of that. 

“It’s okay, if not.” Galo says in a rush, because it is. If that’s not what Lio wants out of this, he gets it. This...whatever this thing is, is still new and weird and they’re still learning how they fit together. Galo’s not going to push it if he feels uncomfortable, no matter how much he might want confirmation. Stability, maybe. “Really, it’s okay I just thought…” 

One of Lio’s hands comes up and cups his face, tilts him in by the chin and for a moment it’s less a kiss and just sharing air, Lio looking at him quietly, like he expects that Galo’s going to object. A part of Galo expects that this is one of those times where Lio’s going to give him an eloquent response, explaining everything to him quiet and clear. Instead, it’s short. Simple. “I don’t want that. Okay?” 

“I said it was okay,” Galo answers after a moment, gentle, turning the kiss into something less sweet with a loud, obnoxious smooch to snap the tension in half. Lio folds himself into the covers and Galo spoons up against him in return, nosing against the nape of his neck. “If it’s  _ not _ dating _ , _ does that mean I get to come up with a name for it?” 

There’s no response. Lio’s … probably not asleep, given the weight of what they were discussing, but he  _ does _ get sleepy, lethargic after a good orgasm, so maybe? Either way, he doesn’t answer and Galo doesn’t intend to press him, so he workshops different names in his head until he falls asleep, too. 

🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺

Eight weeks into dating, but not  _ really _ dating, just this thing where they both see each other frequently and have dinner and sometimes Lio will let him  _ cook dinner,  _ everything goes to shit. 

Kray Foresight invites him over for another meal, which is just as exciting as the last time, maybe moreso. This time, he keeps his keys and phone in his pocket despite the other man’s offering to hold onto them. They work well together and Kray was right; he doesn’t show Galo any favoritism. Galo doesn’t ask for any. These dinners happen with all of the teachers, as far as he knows; Lucia skips them but that’s just because she says she’s allergic to bullshit. It’s not a valid allergy, but he lets it go. 

There’s a stack of manila folders on the table once they’re done with dinner. Galo’s kept the same glass of wine the whole night and drank mostly water outside of that, because he’s  _ learned _ , and also because he has classes at eight the next morning. 

“A school as large as this one will always have...issues,” Kray tells him and slides the folders across the table. “Wasted opportunities, those who would rather linger in mediocrity rather than try, or those who just want to get through to graduation.” 

It’s not...really that simple, not by any means. All of the ‘problem kids’ Galo’s worked with have their reasons, and he hasn’t met one he hasn’t been able to help, at least a little. It means longer hours, but he’s balanced firefighting, not-dating, and school so far. “You know you can depend on me for anything.” 

“I know,” Kray props his chin on his palm and swirls the wine back and forth, idly. Galo starts flipping through the folders, looking over exam scores, grades, notes and writeups from student to student. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. 

Some he’s had interactions with; the class clown, who Galo probably ought to be harder on but isn’t because he  _ gets  _ it. Another, the shy, quiet girl who Galo had to pull out of a fight at one point, learning afterward that it’d started because someone had followed another kid into the lockers and harassed them. There were...complicated kids, sure, but all kids were a little bit assholes at times. Adults were too, for that matter. 

Halfway through the block of folders, Galo flips open one and stills, wordless. Abruptly, a lot of things he hadn’t...really considered make perfect, horrific sense. It’s weird, being trapped between panic and hurt and a swirl of other feelings he doesn’t have names for. 

“Mmm. You know so many of the students here,” Kray observes, casually, like Galo isn’t fucking having a silent meltdown at the table. “We’re adjusting some classes and moving students around. You are, of course, one of the newest and do not have seniority when it comes to choosing, but we like to avoid...favoritism.” 

“Of course,” Galo says blankly, staring at the photo. Mechanically, he puts that folder away, and goes through the rest. The names and faces are a blur. “Which ones are transferred to my class?” 

“Any left over from the list after other teachers have chosen.” Kray takes a slow sip of his wine, smiling. “I’ll expect you to make a thorough list of all of the students you interact with, just as everyone else has. We’ve already filtered out classes you filled in for or students who live near you.” 

“Great,” Galo rasps, blankly. “I’ll get that to you first thing, I just, I gotta, things to do. Thanks so much for having me. I’ll make sure to fill that out. First thing.”

On his way out, he texts Lio. Somehow, he makes it out of that house, back to his motorcycle, and out of the city limits in one piece. Only when he’s far enough away, at some bright, cheery rest stop outside the city does he stop, sitting heavily onto the covered concrete lunch patio, tuck his head between his legs and bite back a scream. Clenched in his hand his phone vibrates. 

> _ On my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes.  _

_ Okay. _

They’ve met for rides together before, that’s normal. Hanging out late, that’s normal. The sound of Lio’s motorcycle zooming down the highway, pulling off to park next to Galo’s, that’s normal. It’s the only part about this that is. 

Whatever he looks like right now is enough for Lio to pause, helmet tucked under his arm, other hand fussing with his hair. “Galo.” 

“How long did you know? I mean, I gotta, I gotta believe… you didn’t, right? That’s the only thing that makes sense.” Not knowing doesn’t make this any less terrible, but it’s at least an honest, stupid fucking mistake. Galo’s eyes burn, nausea twisting his stomach into knots. 

Worse: Lio isn’t saying anything. 

“I didn’t… I didn’t  _ ask, _ your schedule.  _ Roommates _ ?” The last word is sharp, high-pitched with incredulity and realization in equal parts. Roommates. His parents. That he lived with. The roommates that Galo could never meet, the reason Galo could never go over. His head goes right back between his thighs because looking at Lio is awful right now. 

“Galo.” Gravel crunches under Lio’s boots and then there’s the steady sound of them across grass, a hand against his head. Fingers stroke through his hair gently, like they have a dozen times while they were curled on Galo’s couch on a not-date, watching movies. “It isn’t that simple.” 

“ _ What’s not simple about this?”  _ Galo demands, jerking his head up, scooting away. This wouldn’t be easier if it were denied, but he’d  _ hoped _ . “I need to… I have to turn myself in.  _ You _ need to talk to someone. Lio. Whatever you need me to do, to fix this— that’s not. You shouldn’t have to. I should just turn myself in and they’ll figur—”

“ _ Galo _ !” Lio crouches down to his level, forcing Galo to look at him. “We’re not doing that. You’re not doing that. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“ _ I didn’t do anything wrong? _ ” Galo yanks back, skittering across the concrete, staring. “I did everything wrong! I should have—”

“Should have what?” Lio crosses his arms, crouching there like it’s easy, staring him down. “ID’d someone at a  _ college frat party _ ? How would you have known?” 

“It’s been eight weeks _ tomorrow _ !” Galo absolutely hasn’t been counting. “I should have figured it out sooner!”

“How? Sneaking into my wallet to look at my ID? I didn’t  _ want _ you to know.” Lio edges closer again, slowly, and Galo recoils, hating he feels guilty at the way Lio’s expression twists briefly and then goes blank. “Galo. I told you before, didn’t I?” 

Tears slide down his cheeks, dampening his jeans where he has his face mashed. Galo drags in a trembling breath. Muffled, face tucked against his thighs, “Told me what?” 

The whole problem was that Lio  _ didn’t _ tell him anything and Galo was apparently not smart enough to figure it out. God, they were on the same  _ schedule _ . Galo presses his palm against his mouth and fights the urge to scream. 

“I don’t do anything I don’t want to, or without a reason.” 

🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺

Galo doesn’t find out what that reason is, or was. Somehow, Lio talks him off the cliff of turning himself in to the police, but it takes hours and Lio acts like he’s still not entirely sure it’s worked. 

The class rearranging happens, Lio is not placed with him. It’s a small relief, with the larger relief being Kray not asking him why he’d added Lio to that list when he hadn’t taught any of his classes. 

That’s another issue. Galo can’t be certain about it of course, but it feels like Kray...knows. Maybe it’s just the fact that Kray seems to know  _ everything _ he does, sometimes before even Galo knows he’s going to do it. Kray’s known him since he was  _ little _ , always taken an interest in him, helped him out when he didn’t need to. Less parental and more vicious first crush starting when Galo understood what a crush was. Nothing would ever come of it, of course and the flames had mostly died down to a few embers bleeding thin lines of smoke. 

Galo can’t think of a secret he’s kept from Kray even when he was trying. Especially when he was trying. The guy just  _ knew _ things about Galo like he could read his mind, it was insane. Usually the worst that he somehow knew about was that Galo had gone out that night with friends after studying, or he was attending volunteer firefighting meetings (which he actually hadn’t been irritated by, weirdly.) 

It’s not like he acts like he knows something, exactly, maybe it’s just Galo’s guilty conscience. 

The thing about a guilty conscience is the only way Galo knows how to fix it is to fix whatever is making him guilty. If it were something he could talk out with someone, he would, but this isn’t. This is leagues more complicated than anything else he’s handled and there’s nothing to talk out, not unless he’s talking to the police. 

In the end, the only person he talks to is Aina, a week after the end of the school year, when Galo’s having his celebratory drink after getting all of his grades turned in. Another year survived. Aina plys him with drinks, both of them sacked out on his couch after the others have already left, her booted heels slung over his thighs. 

The story comes out in fits and starts, dredged up by her asking about the guy he’d very clearly been dating for months and then stopped dating. Even if he hadn’t really mentioned it explicitly, he’d cancelled or rearranged plans. There’d very clearly been someone until there wasn’t and if Galo were more awake he’d be a little impressed at everyone’s restraint at asking what happened until now. Only after she’s sworn to secrecy does it come out. A party, where everyone, Galo thought, was in college. An ill-advised night together neither of them planned on. Diner breakfast, lunch together, and then dinner, all in the same day with the certainty that he could do that with Lio again and again and not get tired of it. Then, he gets to the crux of it, voice low, all the alcohol sitting oily, awful in his belly as he stares at his hands. 

“I’ve never said that to anyone,” Galo says hoarsely and takes a long pull off of his beer like it’ll settle his stomach instead of make it worse. 

Aina’s quiet for so long Galo assumes the worst; he’s a monster, he’s terrible, she’s just waiting to tell him. “You could’ve lost your job! Your  _ life _ !” 

“I know— wait, what?”

“He shouldn’t have even been there! What were you gonna do, ID him at a frat house? And he had moooonths!” Aina shoves her boot against his spleen, for emphasis. “Months! Months to tell you and he just let you —  _ Galo!”  _

Distantly, he realizes he kind of agrees. He never would have…  _ none of this _ , if he’d had any idea. 

“You broke it off the second you found out, right?” Aina asks, intent. 

Galo nods miserably. “I tried to turn myself in. He told me not to.” 

“The one smart thing he did,” Aina mutters, sharp, waving Galo’s startled look away like smoke. “What! He knew better. He wasn’t putting himself at risk, he was putting you at risk. That’s  _ shitty _ . Shitty and selfish. What’d he even  _ want _ ?” 

That’s the thing. Galo knew there was...something. Lio’d implied it and Galo was dumb but he wasn’t an idiot. Lio was too deliberate for anything else. He’d never figured out what it was and there was never any way to ask. Galo lifts the hand not holding a beer palm up and makes a little  _ Iunno _ noise in his throat. “I don’t know. It’s fine, Aina, it’s… I’m never gonna see him again. That’s the best option. He can figure himself out and we won’t see each other and that… that’ll be it!” 

Aina doesn’t look like she believes him, her foot still against his spleen but the heel loosens just a touch and she flops back into the couch grudgingly. “Still isn’t your fault. Get that into your thick head, dummy.” 

That’s easier said than done, but he can try. It’s not like he’ll ever see Lio again.

🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺

One school year passes and then the next; he forgets his keys at the principal’s a laughable amount of times, always after delicious wine, and the driver winds up in the wrong spots sometimes but that’s Galo and the wine, he’s sure. The guilt chews at him no matter what; by the end of the second year, Galo takes on more with the fire department, switching to filling in college classes a city over. Just long enough the motorcycle ride each morning is nice, distracting, and it’s all new people for him to interact with. When the scheduling balances out, he’s got his own class on the roster three days a week, and goes over his lesson plans endlessly. 

Day one, Galo’s perched on the edge of his desk watching people come in, beaming, greeting them, noting who stays, who goes for the back of the room. The first day is a little anxiety inducing for all of them, so if he can make it a little bit easier, then all the better. A few of them he knows from other office hours, hanging out with other teachers during them when students would come by. 

One stops by his desk to chat as more students mill in; he’s in the middle of talking, hands gesturing when he catches a flash of blonde and black. Even this long after there’s a part of his heart that skips a beat, traitorous, down to the last no matter how guilty he feels about it. They’re sitting in the front, which is a blessing and a curse. At least in the front he’ll get to know them faster, and he won’t get that reaction any longer.

The student he was talking to heads over to the desk they chose and Galo glances over at the newcomer, taking in the long black boots and shiny pants and jacket, all the way up to the fringes of his blonde hair, the angles of his cheekbones. Realization hits Galo slow, but he watches it sweep over Lio’s face, horrible, his face going pale, painted nails clutching the rim of his desk so tight his knuckles are white. 

“Oh,” Galo manages, mouth dry, eyes enormous at Lio fucking Fotia sitting front and center of his classroom. On the plus side, he knows this wasn’t intentional; the shock on Lio’s face is too raw to be anything other than honest. It might have been years since he’s seen Lio, but Galo  _ knows _ that, knows him, even if he doesn’t have any right to think so. There are still other students, though, and he can’t make too much of a scene. Not here, not like this. “It’s, uh, it’s good to see—” 

Lio stands with a clatter, staring Galo down, feet rooted to the ground, looking like he’s torn between running, and starting a fight. “I’m  _ sorry _ ,” Lio says in a low rush, his voice a touch deeper than Galo remembers it being. Before Galo can say anything at all, Lio shoves his desk back with a skitter, and bolts. There’s stifled laughter in the classroom; Galo stares at the door as it inches closed again and then swallows once, twice. 

“Wrong class, huh?” he says helplessly, to muffled laughter. It takes another breath to steady himself and settle back down onto his desk, arms crossed, beaming at the students filing in. “ _ Juuust  _ to make sure, everyone here is  _ really _ into learning about sports nutrition, right? If you’re not, you’ve got two minutes to get to the class you’re supposed to be in. If you  _ are _ , awesome! Everyone bring out the snacks we all know you’re not supposed to have in class but bring anyway, we’re gonna talk about them!” 

Bags crinkle, chairs squeak as everyone obeys and then the door opens again. Galo opens his mouth to say something to the newcomer only for Lio to walk in, unhesitating and make a beeline straight back to the back of the class in the same centered position he’d intended to sit in the first time. The difference is, this time he’s looking down at Galo, a straight line of sight down to him. 

His backpack goes onto the ground and he pulls out a plastic drug store bag. Inside are a series of other bags which he lays on his desk one after another, until he’s got a miniature snack section all on his desk and meets Galo’s eyes defiantly over the desk. Around him, everyone else is doing the same; Galo spots a few apples and bananas, some shakes, but no one comes close to the sheer amount of junkfood contained on one desk. It’s almost impressive. It  _ is _ impressive, and also kind of horrifying. Galo smiles despite the anxious thud of his heart in his chest, and picks up the bag of granola chews on his desk, flipping it over. “Okay. Pick the first thing you want and let’s start going over the ingredients. Sorry in advance for ruining junk food for you guys.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- that underage tag is there for a reason - lio is 16, galo is mid 20s
> 
> \- in case you need me to say this, that's gross in real life. i don't support it. it's a fic.
> 
> \- context for warnings: lio is a high schooler who KNOWS galo is over 18. galo does not know lio is not over 18
> 
> \- part of a larger au but won't ever get finished, i'm tired. context for this is kray is a principle, nearly got caught in an insurance/school budget/whatever kind of scandal galo found out about. lio's aware something fishy is going on & wants to take down kray however he can
> 
> \- i don't want to hear complaints if you didn't read any of the multiple warnings i put up, i don't care, it's fucking fiction karen


End file.
